Middle
by Mird
Summary: There was a Beginning and there was an End. At the moment, Alphonse was stuck in the middle.' Brotherly!EdAl, two-shot, my fiftieth story!
1. Part 1

**Okay everyone! This is my fiftieth story! Hooray! It took me since 10-15-08 to make it this far! Would 50 reviews be too much to ask? (Yes. It would. Still, review, okay?)**

Part One

There was a Beginning and there was an End. At the moment, Alphonse was stuck in the middle.

The Beginning had been when he received the call from Roy Mustang saying that Central City Hospital had contacted him, recognizing Edward as the Fullmetal Alchemist and Roy as his commanding officer.

The Beginning had continued as he ran from the dorms, frustrated at the lack of details, and went to the hospital as quickly as he could manage.

The End would be when the doctors came to assure him that everything would be okay, as was usual.

The End hadn't come yet.

He was stuck in the Middle.

* * *

The doctor came out after such a long time, giving the seven foot suit of armor a weary, wary look. Alphonse stood up, feeling out of place in the dull white waiting room, surrounded by the ticking of a clock, the turning of magazine pages, the looks of horror that covered the faces of everyone else in the room as they waited for news of their own friends or family members or whoever of their relation was lying behind one of those light, brown, foreboding doors.

"Alphonse Elric?" the doctor said, his voice tired and old. Al gave a small nod, confirming his identity. "Your brother should be fine. A civilian found him at the scene of the collapse and called here on a pay phone. Edward's been requesting to speak to you."

Al nodded, his armor creaking loudly. He made a mental note to ask Winry for more oil.

_Which reminds me..._

"Is his automail okay? I'll need to call his mechanic if..." He trailed off, surprised at the look of confusion on the doctor's face.

"What are you talking about? Edward doesn't have automail."

* * *

He stared at his hand. Cold thin, clammy to the touch...But a hand. Not metal, not artificial, not just a pathetic replacement.

Real flesh and bone.

He could feel the stiff sheets against his fingers, the light gray color matching his skin. Deprived of sunlight, the two limbs hardly looked like they belonged to him.

But they did. He had his limbs back.

It made him want to curl up and die.

The door opened and he heard heavy footsteps, alerting him of the entry of his brother.

"...Ed?" he called softly. He sounded lost. "The doctor said that you...That you didn't...Have automail. Is he blind or something? Or are you really...?"

Ed opened his mouth, but his throat was too tight to speak. He swallowed hard, trying to force the words up. He couldn't.

He held up his shaking arm, turning away so that he wouldn't see Al's reaction...Or rather, so that Al couldn't see HIS reaction.

It (he wasn't ready to call that thing an _arm_ or that other thing a _leg_) was thin, emaciated even, much different from the rest of his body.

"...Ah," Al said simply. Ed grimaced and turned around. He forced the tears back for a moment, but...

At the sight of his brother, still in that giant metal prison, the dam broke and he couldn't hold back anymore. The tears burst out and he covered his face with his (still mismatched) hands.

"I-I'm sorry!" he said between sobs, still not looking at Al. "I-I didn't w-want to...And you d-deserve it so much more...B-but I couldn't...I can't...Th-there was-"

He stopped short as a cold hand touched his back, patting him awkwardly.

"It's okay, brother. I mean...It's not...N-not..." Al's voice broke and Ed's mood fell even deeper into the depths of despair.

_He can't even cry..._ he thought to himself, another round of tears escaping his eyes.

"...How does it feel?" Al asked, trying to sound optimistic.

Alphonse was still caught in the Middle.

To Ed, it was the very End.


	2. Part 2

**I'm really upset…I feel like I have too much to do, and not enough time. Books to read, stories to write, fanfics to write…*dies***

**Well, here's part two…*dies again***

Middle

Part Two

"How _did_ you get your limbs back?"

Ed sighed, bracing himself as he stood up. "I'm...Not entirely sure. The homunculi kidnapped me," he said, rolling his eyes. "_Again._ They took me to a warehouse..."

Al put his arm around Ed's shoulder, assisting him as he slowly walked towards the door, his left leg shaking unsteadily. A routine to help Ed get back on his feet; they did this every day, despite the fact that it obviously embarrassed Ed. It was like the automail surgery all over again. He could barely do anything on his own, and Al always helped him silently, without complaint.

He grimaced.

"And?" Al coaxed. "What happened next?"

Ed sighed. "I don't remember. I think it was a mistake...They might have been trying to make the stone...Or something...But it went wrong." He shrugged. "I don't...I don't know, I..." His voice broke. "I'm sorry."

Al stopped walking and took his hand off of his brother's shoulder. Ed wobbled and tried to reach out for something, but found nothing but air. He steadied himself, shifting his weight carefully to his right leg. He looked up at Al, a hint of anger among the confusion.

"What was THAT for? I can't...Walk." He winced, regretting the words...Or more, the fact that the words were true.

"Exactly," Al said simply.

"Exactly what?" (1)

"You can't walk! So why do you keep going on and on about how guilty you are that you have your body back when I don't? You can't _walk_, Ed. You need to worry about that, first. You always say that you need to keep moving forward, right? You can worry about me later, Ed. Just concentrate on yourself for once."

"But I need your help," Ed said, concentrating on his feet, determined to keep his balance.

"No, you don't. You don't need anyone's help."

Ed glared at him, defiantly. "What makes you think I'll suddenly be able to walk again? Al, I can't-"

"Just try."

"But-"

"Try."

Ed sighed and rolled his eyes, taking a single, shaky step forward. Al nodded smugly.

"There. See? It's easy. One step at a time. Just keep moving forward."

Ed kept going, looking vaguely annoyed but, at the same time, proud. He kept a slow, steady stride, going forward with slightly more confidence than before.

His left leg buckled beneath him and he fell to the ground with a thump.

"Oww..." he groaned, rubbing his knee. Al loomed over him, silently holding out a hand to help him up.

Ed took the offer and got to his feet. Al helped him back to the bed, where he sat down, examining the bruise.

"...Thanks," he muttered without looking up.

"Don't mention it."

"When I get out of the hospital, we're going to keep looking, okay?"

Al would have smiled. "Of course."

The End

* * *

**(1) Yay Shel Silverstein!**

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